The Salamander Hunter
by mialbowy
Summary: A tribute to a Muggle naturalist, without who 'A Mostly Complete And Modern Encyclopedia Of Creatures Magical And Mythical' would be a shorter book, and no doubt a less interesting one.


Steve wiped the sweat from his brow that was brought on by the humidity. Hot he could deal with, but rainforests left him drenched. Still, it didn't slow him, following his guide deeper into the unknown. Rumours had reached him of something new, exciting. Humidity couldn't stop him.

The path—a tangle of roots and ferns lightly trodden—took them parallel to the river, and his eyes flickered back to the water constantly, watching every ripple. His guide often checked behind, sighing when Steve had stopped to see some bizarre fish. It didn't take long for their path to veer away from the riverbanks. A constant stream of chorus surrounded them, croaks and birdsong and rustling leaves, snapping twigs. Steve tried to spot the sources, but, with foliage so thick, he could only see a few foot ahead.

As they neared their destination, a gradual quiet came about, silence crescendoing. The guide slowed, every move careful. Steve did the same. Tension built inside him, breaths light and ears strained. In a hushed whisper, the guide said, "I go no further," but looked forwards.

"Thanks, mate. I'll be back quick, just a little look."

The guide nodded, with a muted grimace.

Steve pressed forwards, prying the trail open, careful of the trip traps that snaked and coiled along the ground. His heart beat, fast and strong, an excited pounding. No fear.

Sloping down, the sound of rushing water revealed the river first. He took it slow, wary of the muddied grip. Close, he knew. A sharp lip gave way to a near-hidden riverbank not much bigger than a dining table.

"Well, well, what have we got here? Some kind of salamander?" he muttered to himself, peeking over the lip.

Close enough to touch, an animal lay down there. Fine scales covered it, a tail curling up from one end and a slim head narrowed to a thin snout at the other—almost like a beak. Four legs pressed close to its body, sharp claws poking out of webbed toes. On its back, about where the shoulders would be, what looked like fins stuck off it: two flat, webbed protrusions, folded up but still not much bigger than its feet.

Its head lolled over, eyes looking up at him, but only managing to hold for a second before its focus faltered, gaze falling to the floor. With a snort, a ball of steam rose up.

"You're not looking too good there, fellah," he said, rubbing his chin. "What's the matter?"

It looked back to him, and he held his breath. Reaching out with a front leg, it tapped near the water's edge.

"Thirsty?"

It snorted again, snout wavering side to side.

"Hot?"

It closed its eye, lifting the snout just enough, and dropping it with a weak thwack on the muddy bank.

"Okay, let me just come down then," he said, careful in his step down the lip, avoiding the tail. "You want me to toss some water over you, right?"

Again, it raised its snout.

"Right." He took off his cap while finding good footing along the river. After checking nothing lurked, he dipped it in, and chucked the water over his shoulder. Hissing had him hold his breath, but, after he turned around, he saw steam rising from the animal's body. "Crikey, you are hot."

It took a while before the water stopped boiling on contact, and longer still before he stopped.

"You good now?"

Steam trailed out its snout, and it nodded.

"Great. Mind if I touch you?"

It didn't move. He stepped closer, every movement slow and deliberate, coming to the front of the animal. Lowering himself, he reached out, keeping his hand above it before lowering it onto the top of its head.

"Ah, that's a nice feel you got there. Real smooth."

Though it snorted, it didn't move.

"A real beaut. Wait till Terri hears about you."

Terri looked at all the shops, and found herself bittersweet. Her daughter tugged, desperate to enter the bookshop, even as all kinds of fantastical things surrounded them: flying broomsticks, magic potions, wands. The stuff of stories come true.

"Your father would have loved this place," she thought but didn't say.

The books didn't disappoint. On display as they entered were ones where the person on the cover moved about. Not just that, but, when her daughter waved at the man, he waved back, and even winked at Terri.

From there, it became a more normal of a store, just with strangely named books. 'Charms for all occasions' and 'What your transfiguration teacher didn't teach you' were two that she noticed on the way to the Magical Plants and Creatures section.

Her daughter had taken after her father, after all.

Before getting too sidetracked, Terri plucked the required schoolbook from a shelf, while her daughter struggled with some book that may have been a monster book, rather than a book about monsters. Not that her husband would have called any animal in there a monster, she joked to herself.

Knowing their stay in the section to be a long one, she thought to pass the time seeing some of what her daughter would soon be learning. Opening the book, she ran her finger down the contents page, before turning to the chapter on magical creatures of the Amazon.

"I wonder if he ran into any of these on his trip," she muttered, flipping from page to page, from invisible monkeys to enthralling bats to shape-shifting fish.

Then, she reached the page on the Dwarf Amazonian river dragon, and her mind blanked, hand stilled.

"Discovered in August 2006 by a Muggle naturalist…" the article began.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, lips quivering. For a moment, she kept her eyes wide, and then blinked quickly, a smile emerging. Turning to the end of the book, she looked down the index, and found his name—alongside a dozen or so pages.

Covering her mouth, she smiled, and she cried, happy.

The Dwarf Amazonian river dragon is an elusive beast. Rarely even seen, it is still debated whether it is a dragon, wyvern, salamander, or something entirely unique to the region. From the account of a Muggle, it is a sleek creature some metre and a half long, with a tail that brings it to bit over two metres. The scales are a texture similar to that of a snake, and he remarked that it bore similarity to the anacondas of the same region. Rather than a brownish, patterned skin, the dragon had a dull turquoise shade, which shimmered when wet. It's suggested that, in water, it is near invisible. The current theory is that it makes its home in underground caverns, where it swims amongst clearer water. From the Muggle's account, it is an even-tempered dragon, tolerant of humans when seeking aide, likely due to its isolated habitat. It is unknown if the dragon was mature or juvenile, but the physical description suggests mature, with deformed wings suited to swimming. Because of that and further adaptations in its beak-like snout and webbed feet, it is believed to survive on fish and other water-dwelling animals. So far, efforts to locate even a deceased one have failed, and thus this Muggle's account is the most precise known, and we are fortunate he took such personal risk to obtain it as well as such care in making his report.


End file.
